


breathing towers to heaven

by Nautica_Dawn



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nautica_Dawn/pseuds/Nautica_Dawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan said don't touch, but pirates and princesses belong together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathing towers to heaven

The demon child smiles. "You believe you can save her? Give her a home? Tell me, pirate, will she live on your ship, her son and family as the crew? Or will you give up your life on the sea and become a proper suitor for the princess?"

"Pan, I do believe adult relationships to be a bit beyond your juvenile mind."

"Or perhaps this will work out. Maybe Baelfire will forget that you have spent three centuries loving his mother and now you want the mother of his own son."

Do not hit the homicidal freak, Killian. He's not worth it. "I somehow doubt my history with Milah is going to cause problems."

Except Milah is going to be a problem. Everything about his past is going to be a problem. 

He knows that as well as Pan does. 

.

.

.

Emma isn't like Milah. She isn't like Zoila, Meilin, Corinna, or any other woman he's met. 

But unlike all of them, she is royal. 

Maybe that's the difference. 

And then her fist connects with his jaw. 

.

.

.

"Did you ever have children?" Charming with rum in his system is much more fun. Except when he asks questions like that. It's almost better to deal with the overprotective father version of the prince. 

He doesn't like remembering that he is not much younger than the crocodile. The centuries do not work in his favor. Not when his age-mates are the likes of Rumpelstiltskin.

"None of my own." He leaves out the brief time when Bae lived on the Jolly Roger; how everything had been fine until the boy found his mother's portrait. 

"Never met anyone?"

He thinks of Milah standing on the bow, dark hair twisting in the wind. "Never had the time."

"There's never enough time. I only had Emma for five minutes. The next time we met, she was my age and a mother herself."

"There was a boy." He starts carefully. Charming may be three sheets to the wind, but he still knows enough to make certain connections. "The son of a woman I loved. He lived with me a short while. Good boy, but he and I were soon separated. Next we met, he's older than me with a son of his own."

"Older than you?"

"Between Neverland and Cora's spell, I haven't aged in over three centuries."

Charming snorts and takes another swig of rum. "And I thought twenty-eight years was bad. How old were you when you stopped?"

"Not sure. Stopped keeping track after twenty-one."

Lies. He knows exactly how old he is. Twenty-seven is a long way from Liam but only a couple of years from Milah.  

He doesn't measure years the way normal people do. He tracks the days by important people. It's how he knows today is the first of November. He knows when he met Emma. 

Glancing at Charming, he suspects he's not the only one who measures time by her existence. 

.

.

.

"You were supposed to leave her, Hook."

"And you were supposed to grow up. I guess we're both failures." He starts walking away, almost hoping Charming or Emma comes looking for him. Surely they've noticed he's missing. 

"I won't warn you again, pirate."

"I wasn't aware you were warning me in the first place."

.

.

.

“Is there something you would like to share with the group?” Regina hasn’t changed much since the last they met. That’s good, a little. He knows how to handle her. Smart and desperate and powerful. It’s a nice outline for how to respond to her. 

But smart is unfortunate because smart means perceptive and Regina is much, much better at that than her mother ever was. 

He looks ahead to where the happy family is trying to figure out a new path. “Charming’s not leaving.”

“Oh, I already know that. And as much as she’d like to ignore it, Emma knows it too. But that’s not all you know, is it?”

He thinks of Bae and all the things he should do. Loyalty to Milah and loyalty to Emma both demand he tells his new companions about Pan’s prisoner. 

But loyalty to himself is something very different.

“I was hoping I could keep this to myself.” He scratches behind his ear, looking down and trying to appear bashful. “I don’t like embarrassing women, but you smell like Mr. Smee’s hat.”

.

.

.

The flask is running low. This is not good. Unlike Pan’s taunting that he has a drinking problem, it’s really just a habit. Finding clean water on a ship in the middle of the sea is near-impossible. 

And after Liam, he really can’t be blamed for not trusting Neverland’s water supply.

Okay, so perhaps he relies on it a little, but old habits are hard to break? 

He glances over at Emma, and puts the flask back in his pocket. 

.

.

.

“Getting a little shaky, are we?” Pan sits on a rock nearby, looking perfectly murderable. 

Killian takes a deep breath. “It’s nothing.”

“How long has it been? Is she really worth it?”

“How do you know I’m not shaking with desire to wring your little neck?”

Pan clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Short-tempered, I see. That’s not good. What are the symptoms of withdrawal again?”

“I’m not sure. Do they include ripping out your throat?” The hook has been sharpened recently. Emma made sure of that, after near miss with a dreamshade-armed Lost Boy. 

Pan grins, and disappears. 

.

.

.

“Here, this will help.” Emma hands him a canteen, kneeling beside him. They’re stopped for the night, Bae and Tinker Bell now among their company.

“I promise you I am perfectly fine.”

She scowls. “Killian, I have known enough addicts over the years to know what’s going on. Just take this.”

It’s the first time in ages she’s used his real name, so to humor her he takes the canteen. It’s not rum, nor alcohol of any kind, but still it burns on the way down. “Please tell me there isn’t anything poisonous in this.”

“No. It came from Tink, but I tested it myself, so it is safe.”

He’s fairly certain this is thanks for saving Bae from Pan. 

He preferred the thanks for saving Charming.

But, Pan was probably right. The kiss meant nothing. 

.

.

.

Bae doesn’t talk to him. 

He doesn’t blame him. 

First Milah, now Emma. 

He would hate himself too if he were in Bae’s position. 

.

.

.

 

After almost saving Henry again, he notices the potion the faerie is supplying is getting weaker, more water than magic. He’s being weaned off of it. He says nothing about it, says nothing about Henry. He doesn’t speak much at all these days. 

He tells himself that the silence he offers is why Emma stays near him.  


.

.

.

“I could give you back the _Jewel._ I could even restore that sail you burned. You could leave this place with all of them.”

“But only if I work for you.”

“Just a few errands here and there. That’s why I’d return the sail.”

“When we’re done here, I don’t intend on ever setting foot on this island again.”

“You know you’re not getting out unless I let you.”

“Then I will just have to destroy it all.”

.

.

.

“You want to do _what_?” Emma blinks, looking between him and the other three of the conference. Regina looks far too enthusiastic about this plan, Tinker Bell only slightly intrigued. The crocodile is silent. 

“Would that even work?” The Queen sparks a fire in her hands. 

The faerie shrugged. “Only if you could attack the source of the island’s power.”

“Which could be Pan, for all we know.” 

He holds up his hand. “I don’t think Pan is the source itself. Just a manifestation of it.”

It’s an insane theory, but the only one that makes sense. After three centuries of rum, it’s been slow-going, readjusting to the thought processes of his Lieutenant Jones days. But it is the most logical assumption. He’s been over every contingency. 

“That would explain a few things.” The crocodile finally speaks, words careful as ever. “But what proof do you have?”

“Just my observations. You and I have known him the longest, can you think of another explanation?”

“So what does he want Henry for?” Emma crosses her arms, danger in her eyes. “Pan wants my son’s heart. Why?”

“Maybe Pan’s is wearing out.” Tinker Bell shrugs. “The island’s magic has been a little spotty lately.”

Four pairs of eyes settle on the faerie. “Is there something you would like to share, dearie?”

.

.

.

The sound of weapons sharpening fills the night. There is squid ink and dreamshade being prepared. Tomorrow, when the sun rises, the battle will begin.

But for now, there is moonlight over the sea. 

A crunch of leaves behind him signals the arrival another person and a few moments later, Emma drops down to sit beside him. “It’s really ending, isn’t it?”

“One can only hope.”

“And then we go home?”

He isn’t sure where she’s referring to. He doesn’t think she can go back to that magic-less world. The Enchanted Forest, maybe? She’d do well, conquering the land from the trolls and other beasts. 

She isn’t a princess. Snow White is the princess, and Regina is the queen. 

But Emma? 

Emma is the empress. One day, she will rule them all, and it won’t be dresses and tiaras. It will be swords and honor and valiance. 

“We’ll go wherever you want.”

He’d like to be a part of it, if he could. 

 

.

.

.

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Venus~
> 
> My first attempt at OUaT. It was supposed to be fluffier. And can you tell I wrote this over a month ago?


End file.
